


Oral Persuasion

by Mouse9



Series: Tales from Baker Street [6]
Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: M/M, Mycroft doesn't buffer, cherry stems, pub, until he does
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-18
Updated: 2020-05-18
Packaged: 2021-03-02 21:48:19
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,194
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24253891
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Mouse9/pseuds/Mouse9
Summary: Greg Lestrade has a hidden talent.He can tie cherry stems into a knot with his tongue.
Relationships: Mycroft Holmes/Greg Lestrade
Series: Tales from Baker Street [6]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1474946
Comments: 16
Kudos: 128
Collections: JustMystradeThoughts Plot Bunny Adoptions





	Oral Persuasion

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Paia_Loves_Pie](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Paia_Loves_Pie/gifts), [MrsCrowley](https://archiveofourown.org/users/MrsCrowley/gifts).



> I woke this morning to a Twitter post from Paia with one of my favorite Rupter gifs and a prompt about cherry stems.   
> I replied with "I need this /now/!   
> My brain said: We're writing it.
> 
> So now I have it. And so do you.   
> No smut. I'm sorry.

Mycroft Holmes was not a man subject to whimsy. He did not subscribe to his younger brother’s ridiculous idea of a mind palace, it was a perfectly rational memory experiment.

Nor did he buffer. His brain, though he understood the mundane analogy of likening it to a computer, was not designed to buffer. In his fifty-three years of life, not once had something ever thrown him off his game enough to make his brain disengage for even the slightest of moments. 

Which is why when it finally happened in an out of the way pub Mycroft liked to use for his meetings, he, at first, wasn’t sure what was happening. 

  
  


It happened on a Tuesday night. He and Detective Inspector Lestrade were at their usual seat, this meeting becoming a weekly thing, discussing Lestrade’s case load and with it, Sherlock.

“Been a slow week, oh thanks luv,” Greg glanced up with a polite smile to the woman placing their drinks on the table, an old fashioned for Greg, single malt whiskey for Mycroft, “So there really hasn’t been much for Sherlock to harass me about.”

“I worry about that,” Mycroft ignored his drink for the moment, focusing instead on the task at hand, what to do with a problem like Sherlock. “Without significant mental stimulation, I fear that Sherlock will resort to his us...u...al…”

Greg had plucked the cherry from his drink. Eyes still focused on Mycroft as he spoke, he lightly caught the fruit between his teeth and pulled it from the stem. His tongue carefully pulled the cherry further into his mouth and he bit down. The entire action, only second long,caused a momentary problem with speech functions. Mycroft felt hot, then cold. 

“Usual…” Greg prompted after he swallowed the piece of fruit. Mycroft blinked, noticing Greg looking at him oddly. How mortifying. 

“Forgive me, he will resort to his usual proclivities.” He took a drink now, to cover up his gaffe. 

He couldn’t for the life of him figure out why the sight of Lestrade - _ Greg, he said to call him Greg _ \- eating a piece of fruit had affected him like that. Old fashioneds were Greg’s usual drink, it was a running joke at the bar, they usually received their drinks now without even having to order them, just placed before them as they took their seats. Surely, this was something Gregory did every time? Mycroft searched his memory and could not come up with any past memory of noticing this happen. 

“I don’t think you give your brother enough credit.” Greg retorted, glass in hand. Mycroft blinked once more,  _ when had that happened? _ “I doubt just because he doesn’t have an abundance of cases, he’s going to automatically resort to shooting up. But,” Greg took a drink and returned the glass to the table. “I will go through old cold cases and see if I can find one or two to keep him busy.”

  
  


“Thank you Lestrade, I-”

“Greg,” He picked up the cherry stem, looked at it for a moment, then popped it into his mouth. Mycroft frowned. “What is it with you Holmes boys that you can’t remember a four letter name?”

“My apologies. Gregory.” He couldn’t keep his gaze from the other man’s mouth.  _ What was he doing? _ “I am not accustomed to the informality of…”

His voice trailed off as Greg plucked the now knotted cherry stem from his mouth and set it on the napkin his drink was on. All rational thought left Mycroft’s mind. The rush of heat that left him sweating under his suit was a surprise. He could feel the warmth on his face,Mycroft knew he was blushing, but all he could do was stare at that knotted stem resting innocuous on the napkin. It felt as if his intellect had sputtered and ground to a halt and with a sudden understanding, he knew what the others meant when they said Sherlock was buffering. 

At the subtle clearing of a throat, Mycroft’s gaze slowly rose from the napkin, following the line of buttons on Gregory’s shirt, to the scruff of the five o’clock shadow that graced his chin and cheeks, noticing the lips curled up to a smirk, and finally to those dark eyes, knowing.

“If I’d know that all I had to do was tie a cherry stem into a knot with my tongue to get you to actually notice me, I would’ve done that months ago.” Greg drawled.

“I…” 

His brain restarted. He almost heard the click as synapsis began firing once more, this time at a rate faster than normal, all the data and information being put together and arranged like a puzzle until finally all the pieces made a complete picture.

“Are you flirting with me Gregory?”

Again, that smirk quirked up the corner of his mouth. 

“If you have to ask that Mycroft, you haven’t been flirted with nearly enough.”

Mycroft took in the entire scene; the leaning forward in the chair, the positioning of the elbows, the subtle stoking of the lip of his glass with his finger. He had been trained to notice body language, it was a tactic he used every day in his career, he felt foolish that he had missed these blatant signs from Greg. 

Eyes flicked up one more to Greg’s and Mycroft leaned back, his own hand reaching out to pick up his glass. Now that he could see the board, it was easier to notice the signs from Gregory; the subtle flick of eye movement, following the line of Mycroft’s hand as he raised the glass to his lips. The flair of nostrils, the slight throat movement as he swallowed. All signs of attraction that Mycroft had somehow missed every other time. 

“Where did you learn to do that?” He gestured towards the knotted stem as he returned the glass to the table. 

“Old friend back in my teen years. I was fascinated by her ability to tie a cherry stem with her tongue and she agreed to teach me. Took us an entire bag of cherries and we were both sick for a day after, but I caught on.” Another grin, this one mischievous. “Got me a lot of pull with the boys and girls in my younger days.”

Ah, that explained why he had missed the cues, his own assumptions. Gregory was divorced from a woman, therefore he must be straight. 

_Missed context, sloppy._

Pushing these thoughts aside, Mycroft once more picked up his glass and drained the rest of the contents. 

“Could I see it again?”

Greg’s face lit up in a smile that almost took Mycroft’s breath away. 

“I would be happy to show you again.” 

Mycroft’s lips twitched. “What else can you do with your oral dexterity, Gregory?”

Greg leaned forward as if about to share something private. “I am more than willing to give you an extensive demonstration on my...oral dexterity, Mycroft. The invitation was blatant. Mycroft appreciated the opening. 

Laying down a note to cover both of their drinks, Mycroft stood up. 

“My driver is just outside.”

With a grin, Greg stood as well. 

“Lead the way.”


End file.
